


The strangest night of the year

by Gallavantula



Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video)
Genre: Beginning of the Mystery Skulls, Gen, Origin Headcanons, Origin story of the Mystery Skulls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallavantula/pseuds/Gallavantula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the night of the mansion, before the cave, before the Mystery skulls even existed.<br/>There was a man that threw hell to the wind, and a woman fullfilling her birthright. </p><p>This, is the first time their paths crossed.<br/>And the wheel of fate began to creak into motion.</p><p>OR: The first time Arthur and Vivi crossed paths and met one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains blood, gore, minor character death, cursing, drug abuse, dark spaces and depictions of sexual acts in dodgy situations. 
> 
> Please read with caution!

He can barely fathom the two hour gap between work and the Twillight, so preoccupied with getting through that waiting period until doors open. There’s a shower that cuts out fifteen minutes of time and another twenty spent choosing something to wear, but Arthur’s already agitated and craving the dance floor. He knows Lance doesn’t like letting him out late; he knows Lance doesn’t like the idea of going to parties thrown in abandoned buildings; he knows Lance vocally disapproves of his friends.  

 Arthur can barely bring himself to even care, strapping his two litre water pack onto his back and pulling a five piece zip sweater he can tear apart for ventilation and pocket the sleeves and lower half for later. He’s done these dances so many times, pulling row after row of kandi onto his arms and relishing the lovely lady or guy who’d gifted them. Nearly all of them had random words or things, like ‘Purple Haze’, ‘Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat’, ‘Love and Sex’, ‘Peace Above All’, and Arthur loved each one. 

  He made and lost friends in the same night. He’d get a girlfriend for the duration of the night, kiss and touch one another until it was over and wake up to stumble home.   
It’s fun, thrilling, experiencing so much in so little time and going back to normal the very next day. It’s something he loves, something he finds a great thrill in, and he knows many would judge him for it. Still, listening to his music in the shop brings back memories of hundreds of bodies all jumping and thriving to the same base line, throwing hands up and screaming with elation until it gave out.    
   
The lights, the sounds… Arthur found himself day dreaming again and shook himself out of it, drawing the last ten bracelets over his wrist and flexing his arm beneath the near hundred of the things on his arm. He realizes that this might be too much weight, and he goes through the process of removing nearly two thirds of them back into his lock box pulled out from beneath his bed. If this were a small club thing, or a night with the boys in the black light room in Jed’s basement, he’d wear them all. Tonight though, Arthur wanted to get lost. Throw his arms up and let his legs slide and kick and curl until he could barely stand the walk home.    
   
Nights like that meant lots of snapped beads and lost memories, and though they always managed to catch the eye of old friends, it wasn’t worth the risk.  

 His Razor jolts on the desk, the screen flashing white then red and mellowing to yellow, and he knows it’s Ralec giving him a twenty minute warning. Still he takes the four steps over and flips the thin screen open to confirm it, jerking his hand down to snap the thing shut and pockets it. Alright, no more wasting time. In his jump pants he stashes three bottles of red bull and five tiny 5-hour energy drinks to keep him and his posse awake, and stashes some lego block sweets in his ass pocket for later.  

 Quickly he goes through his room, packing his stuff away and cleaning all his dirty cloths into the hamper to organize everything. If Lance were to give him shit tomorrow at least his room would be something less for him to complain about later. Once done, Arthur snaps his fingers and reaches beneath his play station to grab his wooden box, thumbing the wooden lock piece and pocketing that into his coat. The lock was special, needing some more accurate know how to jimmy it open, and it was a nice treat because it meant that Lance couldn't find the glass pipe if he tried. 

 Tonight he was going all the way, just letting loose and releasing himself to the music.  

 Skirting the stairs was easy, taking each step on it’s silent spot to avoid every creak (a feat that took nearly all his six years to learn) and peered over the ledge into the kitchenette. Arthur hears the tv playing, the referee calling an arm lock and a disgruntled sigh. Good. Lance is busy watching the match. Slowly, Arthur sinks low to the floor to avoid himself being spotted the same manner he was peering in and gently moved the closet door open to find his sneakers. Carefully, he draws them out, sitting his ass on the floor and throws them on, doing up his laces and tucking the tops in over his ankles so that there was no way to trip on them.  

 Once done, Arthur, rolls onto his knees and curls a hand onto the counter, pulling his head up just a little to look into the living room and… yep. Lance has his chair turned towards the tv, and the very tip of his troll hair was bobbing from the man’s habit of running his fingers over his beard. Excellent. Gently, Arthur manages to slide the lock open with about a minute of very, slow and deliberate turning. Once in the clear, he spends the same, slow, hesitant minute turning the knob to prevent any click and draws the door open.    
   
Every obstacle but this one cleared, Arthur toes outside, gets his grip and lifts his other leg through as he slides back to frame, chest to door out, and painstakingly curls the door closed. Bringing it to settle into the lock, he draws out his keys, and repeats the process again. The whole thing probably takes him a solid five minutes to accomplish, but the fact that he can make it out without an earful is truly the greatest reward. Everything packed and secure, Arthur turns on his heel and stats skittering across the gravel yard, walking around the shed to the back street where Ralec parks his car to stay out of sight in case Lance cared to take a look out his window.    
   
The man’s Tiburon Tuscany is idling, the purple tinted lights shimmering on the wet pavement as Arthur feels the chains strike the back of his thighs and the weight is such a reassuring touch that he’s already grinning as he identifies his friend’s around the mouth german goatee. Ralec waves, his other hand already holding a pipe as he rolls down his own window and breathes the smoke into the night sky.  

 “‘Ey Ak, glad ya made it.” Ralec greets, still breathing out before tucking his pipe back between his lips and inhaling the cherry dry. The apprentice mechanic moves his way towards the passenger door, working it open to slide his chains and pants inside before settling his ass on the black leather cushion.   

“Thanks for offerin’ a ride, mate.” Arthur replies in kind, fetching his box to already start packing it for his own drag, but Ralec’s tucking his full and passing it over with a welcome beckoning of his hand. “Oh, sweet.” the shorter man nods, accepting the wood pipe with the mushroom carvings and fetches his own lighter to stoke the fire. 

He’s breathing in nice and slow, drawing up the smoke before his lungs reach full, and he draws back to inhale air and hold.    
 By then Ralec’s started his engine and pulled the stick into drive, and begins their journey to the outskirts of town. The window rolls down for him, and Arthur’s already leaning out the side to exhale, nearly coughing at the end.  

 “Heh, been a while?” Ralec teases, adjusting his shades over his crooked nose, and grins with some gold fittings over his teeth. Arthur’s ready to retort, tease him back but the gold catches him off guard. Reminds him of their mutual past, of the gang life they shared before Arthur moved and left it all behind.    
   
“New look?” He presses instead, and Ralec snorts like it’s the dumbest question in the world.  

 “Yeah, everyone’s done it, replaced the teeth that got knocked out. It’s a nice touch, I think.” Though his tone of voice seems distant, removed. He’s not saying everything, and Arthur’s rather content to leave it at that. Though Arthur disobeys his uncle a lot, there’s some things he will never go back to. Not for this new life, after his Dad left. 

  “Heh, even Dominique?” Arthur asks softly, puffing on the pipe a little more before returning it. Ralec hesitates, slowing before speeding through a yellow, and taking it with a grimace.    
   
“Dominique… He’s, well, erased.” The man grumbles lightly, freeing one hand to puff on the pipe before realizing that the cherry went cold. Arthur though, feels himself clam up. Ah, another friend, gone. Another name to his board, someone he’ll never meet again. The thought is sobering, enough that Ralec turns on the radio, takes a minute at a stop sign to smoke his bowl, and takes off again. The streets outside are becoming familiar; he’s bumbled by that barn before, and that gas station was raided for energy drinks one september night. It’s interesting to map out where things have happened before while his mind wasn’t sober like it was now.    
 Then again, the ball in his chest has begun to calm, and the pin pricks of haze in his lungs has begun to warmly spread through him.  

 “So, AK.” Ralec begins, twitching the radio down a smidge so they can talk over it, but Arthur’s relaxed enough not to react.   

“What?” is the mumbled reply, shifting his hand to curl and sway forward like it was riding a wave. Ralec snickers lightly, bringing a ringed hand to come over and lightly shove at Arthur’s shoulder, and the tilt of centre is enough for him to kick his leg out for balance, giggling at the intrusion. Shit, it has been some time since he’d last gone to smoke. That, or Ralec’s stuff was laced. Huh. Should have thought of that one sooner.    
   
“I’m dealin’ some stuff, tonight, so like, would you want to be my carry?” Ralec murmurs softly, thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel but Arthur’s lips have puckered up right quick.    
   
“…Ralec, mate, I don’t dabble in that shit no more.” Arthur’s eyes are sharp, staring holes into the man’s face, and Ralec’s side eyeing him as they drive. The tension continues to build, anchoring heavy into their hearts and the secrets they hold and wield deep in the cracked corners of their heads. 

  “So…? Mate, I’ll give you spare cut.”   
   
“Ralec, I left for a reason.”    
   
“C’mon man, just hold onto it for me then.”    
   
“No.”  

 Arthur sees the coming building, the massive concrete structure and the shuttered windows. Already, some of the cracks spill the lights from inside, and on a ledge he sees dust scattering to the wind from the heavy bass. He wants to be in there, lost to the music and moving to the beat of a thousand bodies. Not here, not now. Not in this current of hot anger that’s stifling his throat like sauna steam.  

 Not with this.    
   
“Man, that’s wack.” 

  “Fuck you man, you know I nearly died for that last call, right? Droo fucked me over square for some guns, man, guns-“ Arthur starts up, the story spilling out from wounds he’d forgotten he had as his hands gesture hard at his old friend, and the mafia grunt’s foot is heavy to the peddle as they swerve into the drive way.   
    
“It’s just a simple cash grab, Shtick! What the hell is this prissy shit? Droo’s got no heart for no body, you’s the dumbest prick if you’d believed he’d been lookin’ out for yas. It’s just some M man, stick in it fer me, just once mate.” Ralec gripes hotly, teeth pulled out further and Arthur sees it, the missing tooth, the mollar. Fuck. Upgraded did you, Ralec? The car finds a parking spot, swerving some gravel to scatter over another car but neither passenger cares for it at the moment.  

 “At least I ain’t some fuckin’ lap dog, Tosser.” With that, Arthur wrenches the door open, and with lithe steps makes his escape from the shrieking in the car. There’s nothing to worry about, he’d find someone to give him a ride home or just walk it. An hour is nothing, and he’s packed up enough energy drinks to last him the trek home. Arthur’s eyes gleam over the dressed attendees, seeing the nice Tripps and Cyber Dogs around, and he likes the beads and neon paints some of the finer sorts are sporting. 

  Cool. The man shakes off the negativity still spawning from the car, feeling the current of positive vibes and excitement from the gathered patrons.  

 He’s made it to The Night.


	2. Twilight to Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival to the rave, the thrill and fall he was looking for, but something more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers include gore, violence, death, emphasis on blood, sexual themes, drug use.

 Quickly, he’s shuffling his steps up towards the front line, fishing out his wallet for the fiver to get in. The front door has four bouncers sitting around, two of the regular fare as attendees themselves, and two thicker set males ready to cause friction if it came to them. He’s saluting the one taller bouncer, earning a recognizing sparkle in those dark molten eyes and the two share a light chuckle.  

 “Hey Mate, not the DJ tonight?” Arthur laughs in as he leans over the chain, holding out his index and middle finger like a salute and the darker skinned man reaches forward to slide his two same fingers towards his palm, a greeting. 

  “Nah, jus’ guard duty for thi’ ‘ound dog. Heh, you bettah stay outta trouble, jah?” The man chuckles, splitting his lips into a grin and Arthur sees the gap in his teeth, and it’s rather handsome on him. He’s always liked Baratigi a lot, and his sets always bring some nice chillstep to the space. Too bad he wasn’t hosting the floor tonight.

  “Promise mate, promise.” Arthur nods in return, waving lightly in good bye as he pays the twiggy looking man with braids in his dreads, the whole tangled in behind a bandana with fangs spray painted onto the front.   

“Fenks mon. An’ Welcome to da Night, bruv.” The doorman replies, bringing a stamp up and Arthur slides his wristband back to receive his receipt. The energy inside is already beginning to pulse behind his head, the emotions of euphoria and glorious freedom splinting into his own spirit. Ahh, this was home.  

 “Shore thing.” Arhur assures eagerly, dipping his head and sliding inside, and the atmosphere has already shifted and accepted him into the bubble. The dark recesses of the small hallway are awning pits, like little suckling mouths for the pounding, spinning lights of the disco shapes splintering the hues all over the floors and walls. Once the alcove has been cleared, Arthur’s already bouncing on his heels, dancing to the rhythm of the heavy bass pounding the ground. Oh, it rides up into his bones, thrumming the air as he inhales, and the crowd is tightly gathered in front of the Dj’s podium. He sees glow sticks being tossed up into the air, scattering across rising, groping hands, and Arthur’s jogging up to join it.  

 The closer he gets, the lest distinct the environment becomes. It’s just a cloud, a mist he breathes into and the buzz of his chest and head tune it out. His empathy closes, overloaded with such hungry positivity that he’s already jiving and shifting to the beat. More people collect and gather, eager to dance and touch and find the pulse in their minds meet the one beneath their feet. The volume climbs once the space closes in, and the Dj makes his rally to call up their hearts to the dance. It drops into the core of the heavier stuff, and the Night begins. There’s cheering and yelling, people crowding in to get closer to the vibrations of the speakers.  

 Some begin to dance, swinging up heels and jarring their arms over their heads, caught up in the movement of their own bodies that Arthur finds himself nearly stumbling into their projected energy, stirred up in their core that he’s coasting the circles made around them. He’s watching the challenges and the displays, sometimes jumping in to give his famous for step kick flip, with the finished landing on his heels and having him leap towards the crowd, but he’s not entirely keen to take center stage tonight. 

  If Ralec’s seen him, Arthur hasn’t in return and he plans to keep it that way. He’s jiving, shifting and finding the arch of his feet barely touch the ground for even a moment. This is what he’s been craving for so long, and reaching it is total bliss. However much time flies by as he finds small groups to connect with, reaching for their feelings and finding himself easily lost in their endurance and flow. Sometimes he bumps hips with others, parts to allow some to pass through to move around the floor. Eventually, he finds one. This cute girl’s got her tripps tied down beneath her soles, skidding and slapping the toes of her chucks to the concrete. Her foot work could use some refinement but really, with the way her hips snap up and her torso twists, she’s got her own style going. 

 Arthur’s excited to dance beside her, complimenting her movements like a mirror and they manage to trade some kicks and slides like a unit. It’s divine, twisting around her and throwing up his arms to feel the bracelets drift and hover over his skin before striking down in strong movements. Her green eyes seem to glimmer pleasantly in the shot of the light, pixie blond hair meshed in purple streaks curled around her face in little arches, and he’s mesmerized. They seem to eventually drift away from their circle, focused inherently on one another that even other dancers around them who may try to groove into their track are not given any anchor.  

 Her necklaces sway and spin, shifting up over her breasts and into the crook of her arms, and Arthur’s snapping his hands and having the bracelets slide up his forearm and down to his wrists, skirting one another like dancing birds checking one another out for attractiveness. Her blue lips part in a smile, showing dazzling white teeth and hell, he’s smiling back to her, grin not so self assured but happy to be drawn into her. Those eyes, he feels drawn into them so strongly, and her emotional current is ravishing. Her shirt’s some sleeveless crop, spattered with dried neon paint and little pins with the same words and messages as his bracelets. He likes watching her waistband, seeing how the dangling pieces manage to compliment her figure and the ripple of her belly calls to abs that could form with some dedication. 

  His haze begs for her, and he finally breaks the teasing dance of distance to slide in next to her, undulating his hips to match her rhythm. She seems to bite, tinkling laughter over the noise of the music around their heads as her rhythm stays sturdy, matching his and oops, his knee lightly brushed the inside of her thigh, but it seemed okay. Her figure followed his, slowly changing to merge their beats and there, groins meet and gentle hands tease over shoulders. It’s fun, light and playful, teasing pressure over one another and Arthur’s jumping between his feet and her face.  

 “You’re cute.” Her voice calls out in his ears, her chest pressing into his with light rotations as her voice soothes into him. Damn. Would they fuck, later? It would be delightful, he thinks, being able to have her lips smear colour over his body and face. His hands sink to her hips, guiding her motions against him and then they are more firm, pressing every inch of their fronts working together to complete some friction. The woman’s arms skirt up to his face, petting over the hairs of his side burns, down the bridge of his english nose, over the curve of his lips and before he can tease a nibble or lick it’s skirting down over his goatee. 

  For a moment, he’s worried. Will she turn him away because of his facial hair? Some girls really don’t dig that. Nothing against his person, just that. Again this dazzling pixie seemed okay with it, and leaned in with a confident grind of her groin against his trapped arousal and planting a kiss to his lips. It’s tasty, sweet, like candy and he thinks she might have taken some ecstasy or something, but he’s enjoying the moment, sinking his hand down to palm over her side before they are bumped, and the kiss is broken. The interloper screams a sorry and scatter back into the crowd, leaving before they could be reprimanded, and the girl steps away from him, looking aside.  

 Just like that, she’s gone, skirting into the crowd with what looked like laughter and the connection feels lost. The drift of her feelings, her warmth, are taken with her, and in any other situation Arthur would feel depressed and dark for the loss, but the emotions around him rush in like a dam collapse and fill in the spaces. Alright, that, was hell damn nice though, and his heart was so very full. A gentle touch to his lips, reminiscing on the moment and then Arthur is out, dancing and finding the next step in tonight’s journey. The next few circles and units aren’t as powerful as before, working around him and slowly pushing him back out, and it’s fine. He finds that maybe his aura as been drained out with the girl, so he takes a moment to skirt to the outside. 

  From here, the music seems to lull, and the half calm of the rhythm is the last toss out before he’s bereft. Alright, seems his dose is wearing out, and it’s a good moment to jump out and top up. Easily, he’s skirting the outside, ignoring the grinding couples and the few already horizontal on the floor in the little alcoves and doors. He’s not interested in looking and catching sight of the shrugged down pants, and with a quick heave he’s opening an abandoned door to the back of the building, already scoping out to see where he could tuck into for a quick smoke. There’s another pair grinding up in behind an abandoned ladder, mewling and panting in a state that Arthur can tell is delirium just from the proximity to them, and he’s eager to get away from it. Sometimes, the feelings are enough for him to lean against a corner himself and rub one out, though right now, there’s something else buzzing at the outside of his brain case. Instead the stuffy, mindless air of the dance has loosened it’s hold, and he feels a little foul.  

 Stepping aside, Arthur’s working to get as far away from the source of the aroused emotions as possible. Keeping to the brick sides, though with every step that darkness seems to hang in heavier. What malevolent intention was this? What horrid hunger was hovering about them like a starving predator, waiting to strike? It brought his blood to the edge, and the need to find this source, this threat and neutralize it was becoming more and more important, urgent. Like any moment, this person would strike out, take what it wanted without regard and that frightened Arthur.  

 He’s felt this kind of pulse before, this sort of hungry viciousness that rested within the soul of killers, of people who did not hold compassion for human lives. It hurt, nearly, to feel so ripped from his humanity, but Arthur could feel that cunning around the corner of this building, behind that shed- And he would do everything in his power to stop it. His feet scatter pebbles with his heavy run, scampering quickly over to the shed as he hears it, the soft murmur of voices in the midst of delirium. They aren’t aware, not as sharp as they should be, and Arthur realized that they were the victims. One of them starts to waver off, like she was falling asleep on the spot, and it’s only when he’s skirting around the shed that he sees why.   

Some strange, hulking figure is hovering above one of the girls, head pressed into the side of her neck and obscuring their face completely from view. Arthur was left stranded, there, just watching as the girl stopped speaking and slurring, slumping further and further into the thing’s embrace before being more lax than a sack of dough. It was disturbing, to feel the snuffed out life settle there, the body being laid to the ground as her skin fades down to ash. The contrast of grey matter beneath the rainbow armband and stockings make him instantly sick, if the fact that soon her body began to collapse in on itself like heavy dust didn’t. The thing was already moving away, bringing skeletal, thin hands like vines towards the other female even before his first kill had finished even disintegrating into a passing breeze.   

Arthur could scarcely believe the visual he’d just witnessed. That, that wasn’t even possible. Was it? Seeing a living, breathing person who’s voice he’d just heard laughing and whispering, now lay no evidence but her discarded shoes and armbands? Without thinking he’s stepping forward a few shaky steps, body trembling with an instinctive mortal fear that all humans are bred to ignore. This thing glides like there are no feet for it to move upon, wrapping up the long thin fingers around it’s next victim and lifts her up. He’s watching in a slow reaction time as he’s moving closer to is, hands bunched at his sides with prepared violence. Her head rolls back with a few more giggles, a hand swatting at the thing’s seeming chest like they were engaged in some form of conversation, but as she rolls to look back at it, round face and red lips, her eyes are sightless.  

  White and blue like frozen milk, they peered out at nothing as the brunette murmured and chortled. Something was keeping her bewitched, easily handled for the thing to turn her head again, and lean in. Before Arthur could even think about it, there’s a struggled cry that escapes him, and he regrets more things than his brain could potentially list up in that very moment. A face like hollowed bark peered at him, gnarled and chipped like hacked wood but with features enough for eyes, a broad fanned nose and a mouth. The eyes themselves were crisp and iridescent hues of green and gold over an obsidian surface, like gemstones though the colour seemed to be woven like dribbled gold from around the void of the pupil.  

 Suddenly, the spell seemed to break, and the girl slumped like her strings were cut. The creature hissed angrily, spreading those dense cracked lips to expose teeth, and Arthur stupidly thinks of a vampire, with those damn enormous canines. Oh. He was, so unbelievably boned. It’s eyes seem to spread open, the layers of colour sinking back beneath the dry looking lids to create these glossy looking black voids. Ah, his soul felt like it was on display, seen by this thing that has already dropped his other victim without any care, and the tiny multitude of vines curled back into it’s wrists to shape hands. It’s face was moving around, leading the body like a puppet to peer at him, truly looking at him like he was worth something and the mechanic finally stilled.  

 “Fuck…” He gulps, mouth already drying up and his heart hammering to move, to jump and to get him out of there like he’d never seen this thing before. But it’s aura of interest, it’s focus open him is choking enough for stillness. 

 “You…” A withered, alien voice like shuddering and crunching leaves reaches his ears and there’s a load of stones that slip down his esophagus and into his stomach like cold lead. Oh. This was- “are different…” The creature whispers, heaving in like a groaning house and gliding the equivalent of a step closer. Arthur’s biting his tongue, windmilling his arms a moment to step back, but their eyes lock and Arthur knows he’s made an even bigger mistake. His legs suddenly refuse to move.     “It’s, leaking…” It continues, arms already uncurling for tiny fish line thin tendrils to begin worming their way towards him, and his eyes barely manage to move enough to see them. “Such, a powerful… delicious….” He swears there’s some green tinted ooze seeping out from the cracks on it’s face and the corners of those worn lips, and the fear is finally slick like shattered ice through his body. Oh gods, oh illium, is this death-? “I will… hhrrnn…”  

 The creature rasps, bringing a tendril in closer to brush over the man’s face as another winds into his vest, beginning it’s natural motion of coiling around it’s prey but somehow, Arthur snaps back. His eyes jump and flinch, managing to break the spell and though the beast wails he’s already jamming hard like a jack rabbit and his feet carry him off. The sound of it chittering behind him, like snapping twigs and angry gusts keeps the height of adrenaline pumping regardless of his stuttering heart. Escape, escape, escape- The breadth of it’s hunger, it’s desire for his soul; Arthur could feel it brushing against him like breath on the back of his throat. This thing will follow him- Will hunt him down.  

 This was it. This was death. The acceptance of this idea, seemed to free his body of panic for a fleeting moment. He wasn’t going to lay down and let it happen but the knowledge that he was doing everything he could- 

  “Duck!” Some voice screamed from the night, commanding and calm, and Arthur did exactly as he was asked, scooping down to slide with his legs outstretched to dodge whatever she had asked-  

 Only to see something swing over his head and club the thing in hot pursuit behind him. It’s wail was pure ghastly, ringing inside of his head like the bass from earlier, and he understood immediately why it would hunt here. Turning around gave him the end game of the beast’s knock back, head bouncing back against it’s shoulders as it’s limbs shoot forward before it, turning it’s momentum up enough before it came back down in a heap of cloak and vines. Arthur’s eyes are turning up, following the momentum of the events in reverse to see… a blue clad woman, wearing quite the bizarre attire and already winding up her bat for another strike.   

She wore intense spiked hiking boots that had been finely tanned blue and faded with time, and light blue stocking that seemed to stretch around the pure girth of her thick things. A skirt with cyan blue lining and dark blue fabric that matched her soles, and the scarf billowing out behind her. Her sweater covered over her arms and torso snuggly, which only highlighted the black elbow pads and spiked gloves over her tightly held fingers. Arthur would swear she was ready for some goth convention were she not so busy beating the shit out of that monster like it was some cocky drunk jock.  

 Arthur’s feet are pushing the gravel as he wriggles backwards to get away from the scene. The bat comes down, smashing into the beast’s head with a heavy ringing that had it’s whole being pulse with pain. It’s giving off a weak, vulnerable gurgle but the woman is swinging the bat to the side like it was a blade, shaking off some strange green fluid before winding it over her head and into the beast’s face. Again, Arthur feels a spurt and realizes his pants are already spattered with this thing’s blood and he’s not sure if he’s screaming or if it’s just the music pounding from inside the building nearly to his back now. Suddenly her laughter plays in as she brings it over and smacks down again. He knows the movements from that body are now just jerks of nerves firing off suddenly, the head already misshapen and Arthur’s stomach might come out from his mouth.   

 Then, it’s over. Five gruelling minutes of witnessing this potential murder as the green solidified, and everywhere that wasn’t their cloths slowly turned the same strange ash grey, and stirred up into sand like particles through the wind that had Arthur coughing to clear the scratch. She’s wiping at her face with the end of her scarf, grinning ear to ear and though Arthur expects the worst, her climate is stable. It’s protective and calm, and he realized that she had been balanced all along, and her strength and inner tempo kept her balanced. He’s peering up at her as she’s dusting off her bat, pushing it through a holster on her back and turning to look at him. 

 Strange, half pink lenses are put before her eyes, and he’s staring hard into them as comfort and warmth are now being fed from her. 

 

 “Y’Know, you’re lucky you’re an empath, or else he would have gotten ya.” Her light, bubbly voice replies, cocking a curvy hip up as she settles her stance. He feels his ass throbbing from the landing, though it’s on par with the calming pulse of his beating heart. She just, destroyed that thing. Killed it so bad that no corpse stayed behind. He’s swallowing hard, eyeing her as she laughs again, her cheeks curling to make the spot of green blood on her face jump to him again. She’s talking, but he’s so blown up about this night. Two dead, and no evidence to it. He feels like he’s back in the past, back with the boys and the drug runs- 

 “So, stay out of trouble next time.” The woman finished advising, a white pup coming up behind her with a whine before she turned about and began to take her leave. There was nothing in him to stop her, to speak up and ask her name. To ask what had happened, or how he was supposed to react. Instead, she reached the treeline, parting the leaves without a doubt and disappeared just as she had appeared. Arthur slowly managed to get himself to stand, legs shaking and eyes dry.    
 Two songs trickled by, and the space never changed. No green reappeared in the floor, no cloak rising back up for that dried, parched face that seemed so human in minor moments that before the man was completely aware of the shaking in his body… 

 He was running. Feet scattered the rocks as he passed over the abandoned building’s lot. He was running passed the stop signs and houses on his way home. He was running passed the church, the gas station, the grocery stores, the corner mart… 

 Arthur ran all the way home, jittery with his keys and heart as he tippy toes inside, removes his shoes and retreats into his room. He does not remove his cloths, or his cans, or his box.  

 The man sleeps, afraid of the new nightmares that paraded with old ones, a cacophony that haunted him into the next day.


	3. In which they all trade names and think nothing more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two childhood friends meet up to catch up, and then the weird woman is there.

The restaurant isn’t so busy on early on a Saturday like this one, just the regulars and morning fare excited enough for some breakfast. Arthur’s parked the car in the back of the housing space, knowing Lewis would rather his van there instead of in the customer parking. Usually the mechanic would end up there longer than two hours and well, the space would be better used to allow access to revenue when they had an extra spot beneath the stairs to their apartment flat above the store.  

 The back door is propped open by a tomato crate, which Arthur assumes was delivered that morning. He can hear a cook shout for his pasta, and from the sounds of the clatter, dish duty is well growing past manageable. Stepping inside the billowing steam from the oven, Arthur’s doing his best to avoid stepping anywhere near Mr. Pepper’s cook station lest he get burned with another scolding. The man may have been small and a sweet streak a mile wide, but he was a pepper concentrated that could really smart if set off. Mrs Pepper has four platters in her arms, bringing them forward but Arthur’s already ducked down to avoid getting his head smacked. 

  “Sorry Arthur, nice to see you.” The woman’s sultry voice calls with a swish and shift of her hips, and the man is smartly averting his eyes from her rear and saluting weakly.  

 “Same Mrs P. Lewis on dishes?” He shouts over another loud clatter as a sous chef got his sauce pans in a basin and wheeled it to the side for pick up. The woman bobs her head, the red velvet of her curls bouncing brightly as she manages a nice smile with the gentle curve of her eyes.  

 “Yes.” Is her simple answer, hefting the platters smoothly with a sliding grind beneath the heat lamps, and checking the receipts hung up, she taps the little bell. “Orders F245, G376, J124 up!” Arthur’s been here since he was twelve; he knows when it’s time to meddle around, and when rush hour takes up the very souls of the Pepper family. He’s dipping around, grabbing the basin with his sturdy hands and heaving. It’s heavy, and the mechanic knows Lewis is built the way he is simply to maintain a constant effort for his family business, but damn does Arthur feel like his own meagre strength barely matches up. Nearly waddling, he’s got the bin around the corner towards the back with all the stock, and the hall towards the sink. Ushering inside by using the toe of his shoe to get the door, he’s found his friend busy at work.

Lewis’ sleeves have been rolled up over his biceps, which seem to flex tightly as he makes his roving motions over the dish wear to scrape off the excess sauce. It’s such a habitual way to find him that Arthur’s already laughing softly, hefting the bucket onto an empty corner and leaning over to pat his back and peering over the mountains of dishes left for him to work through. Seems like Morugan ditched her half of the chores last night. Poor Lew.  

 “I knew I’d find you here today.” Arthur grins, already receiving a gentle look from Lewis that was part warmth to seeing him and part exasperation. The man’s eyes showed through it’s perpetual shadow and looked a little darker, like sleep hadn’t happened last night, and the concern hit Arthur hard. 

 “Morugan stayed out too late last night. Found her asleep in her cab because the door wouldn’t open.” Lewis answers in spurts, working the baked cheese hard off of a baking tray and Arthur’s already rolling up his sleeves and grabbing an apron so he too can lend a hand.  

 “Shit, did the door not open again?” Arthur murmurs, reaching for a sponge and sets his hands into the second sink and the dishes pilled in so high that they needed a small dip in Lewis’ sink for water to get to work.  

 “She claims the door ate her key.” The man grumbles softly, placing the plate in a basin that has been borrowed as a rinsing station, and he’s working the next tray through his fingers and the rag. Arthur’s glancing at him, expecting that same tricky little grin that would give away the joke. Lewis has never been a man known to keep down a laugh at a good joke but, this time his grim line of an expression leaves no space for such tomfoolery.  

 “You’re… serious, you believe that?” He asks incredilously, working the rim of a plate as Lewis shrugs and slumps over his sink. 

  “To be honest Arthur, I’m ready to believe a lot of things. This morning, when I went into my bathroom, I was in the basement.” He murmurs gently, working away at his pile in the sink while Arthur left to ponder what he had just been told.  

 “Wait, are you… sure you didn’t sleep walk?” The man ventures, hating that he’s doubting his friend on this but, the way he’s not even jumping to defend himself like he does his girls or shows… well, it got him to sober up too.  

 “I dearly wish i had. The moment I turned to step back through the door, I had walked outside the front door onto the street. Somehow, I ended up turned around so quickly. And yet, only when I walked back in did Douglah notice me at all. And you know mi Papi, he’d have heard me in a heart beat.” Lewis concludes, already near empty in his sink. He steps back, grabbing a new basin and dumps in the dishes to soak. Sure, he might have had a better time emptying the sink and rinsing it for a refill first but, the poor guy was not in his right mind at the moment.  

 “Sounds like some paranormal story.” Hums the mechanic softly, grabbing a towel to start drying the dishes beside the basin and in it, and putting them onto the cart safely behind the door to be wheeled out for the dinner rush. They needed more dishes, didn’t they? “What happened to the new dish order?”  

 “It ended up on the ceiling, and we still can’t get them down.” Lewis answers, already scrubbing at his dishes like he hadn’t just said the most outrageous comment yet.  

 “The… ceiling…?” Arthur repeats, hoping Lewis would catch it, laugh and correct it to something that did make sense. Instead, that tired face turns to him and that grimace makes Arthur all the more guilty, but humbled. 

 “We cannot explain it either. Just one moment they were in the stock room, ready to be unwrapped and washed, and when poor little Siété walked in to get started, they were just… on the ceiling. Like gravity worked that way. Mami nearly fainted, I’m telling you. It’s not normal, but like any of us have the time to really process any of this stuff during our busiest quarter.” Lewis tells carefully, trembling lightly and Arthur knows it’s from exhaustion rather than fear. Usually a mystery like this would have his face bright and hands up like some excitable school girl. Now, the older friend knows that it’s his family suffering, and Lewis is getting thinned out.  

 “Did anyone call in someone?” the mechanic offers as an idea, drying off more plates to stack them before coming back to empty his sink and start a new wash. As it ran, Lewis finally stopped, bracing against the sink and hunching forward. The guy was near his breaking point, it seemed. 

 “Siété has nightmares every night, screaming about children being murdered. She’s missed a week of school because of these weird things, and I’m upset that I don’t know how to stop any of this. I’m scared that something worse is going to happen, and one of mi familia will be hurt. (What will I do then?)” He nearly wails, and Arthur’s dropping his rags to put his hand onto the man’s shoulder and squeezing it tightly.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay. The exorciser Mr. Pepper called will come, and this will be fixed, okay? You’re not alone. I’ll take shifts off and come help you out, okay-?”  

 “No, Arthur, I can’t ask of that. Free work? No, you’ve already done so much- What about your party thing?” Lewis counters, turning to stare at his friend with such a frail look. Arthur shakes his head, still more 

 “That was last night, man. It was a bad trip.” Though it seems Lewis is just all the more confused, allowing himself to lean back to sit on the edge of the counter to observe his friend. He could feel the air of judgement and concern. Lewis didn’t approve of the drugs but, still he did not enforce it upon his friend.  

 “I swear, I’d barely smoked a bowl when I had gone out for air. And I was walking around the building to find a spot to sit and drink-“ Arthur continues, despite the clink of noise from the back door. It was a familiar sound that he barely took notice of. 

  “Like usual.” Lewis nods for a moment, wiping his hands clean for his small allotted break. Arthur gestures with his hands, eager to tell the story and so Lewis goes quiet and simply nods.  

 “And these two girls are completely sloshed, giggling and gone with this thing, that sucked them to dust from their throat like some- Some-“ Arthur sputtered, spinning his hand for a word or context to use when a very unfamiliar breath breathed in behind his neck and his whole body jumped to goose flesh in an instant. He turns for a second, spotting nothing but some shadow that seemed to move, and instantly Arthur believed. He believed that something was here.  

 “LIke… a drinker of souls.” He ends anti climatically, and Lewis nods his head with a musing hum. The two of them would usually be joking, playing around with the idea of a cocktail of drugs fucking Arthur up and the siren with chocolate skin that held his heart but… both stared grimly to the floor like such innocence had not existed before. They both swallowed a lump at once, nervous with growing up, with being adults finally and all the responsibilities and concerns that seemed to come with it.   
   
 “And… How did it go..? You’re, here, so…” Lewis presses, tipping them back into where their thoughts should be. Arthur nods, rubbing at his arms with moist hands for a moment and keeping himself feeling safe.  

 “This… woman, clad wholly in blue just showed up and used a bat to break it’s face.” He concludes uncertainly, and he can feel those eyes burning through him from beneath that hair. “It looked like it was covered in those cheesy ninja spells from NinJaskava, you know the one. She beat into it until the thing burned up into ash and vanished like it had never been there. The shit that got on me ate through my pants, dude.” Though Arthur then realized that his effort to mask the things that didn’t fit with the story. Shit. Still. It seemed Lewis fully believed in it, if his worried cheek biting show how nervous he must have been feeling.  

 “What… was she wearing, again?” Lewis murmurs, hanging his head into his hand. Okay, maybe not.

  “A pair of biker boots, some skimpy ass dress thing with a sweater. Even her hair was blue dude, and she had no mercy.” Arthur urges, and Lewis grunts and sits up, already going back to his sink.  

 “Dude, you doubting on me? After all your shit?” Arthur squeaks, anger flaring hot for a moment before his friend is nearly growling with frustration, throwing up his hands and the poor rag. It was a strange moment for Arthur to watch it fly, soaring over their heads before… landing on some sheets on the counter with a moist whump. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too important, but Lewis was already speaking- 

 “I do, I really doubt everything, right about now. Flying Boxes? Portal doors? Nightmares that leave marks after the victim wakes up? I wish all of this was made up and something I’d still be laughing about two days earlier!” The man just, shouts, completely sliding into a moment of a break. “Why is this shit happening? It should have gone away like every other problem before! This stuff keeps following us Arthur and it’s really scaring me, okay?” The man eventually pants, hanging down when… Mrs Pepper’s voice and a stranger’s echo into their small room. 

 “Why has everything started after my 18th birthday? Why are people following me, my family? I wish I could make this shit up but it’s happening, you’ve seen some of it too!” Lewis continues, wringing the sponge in his hand but Arthur’s straining to hear the reply to Arthur’s mom. It’s all too uncanny, striking up the memories of last night and without thinking he’s darting out from the kitchen to find it. Lewis makes a startled noise, calling out a ‘wait up’ but Arthur’s already sliding to a halt at the end of the small hall to stare. Lewis pants, coming in close behind him and touching onto his left shoulder.  
   
 “Hey, what did I say-?” The man worriedly murmurs, withdrawing but Arthur’s putting an assuring hand on top of his and squeezing to lift it, like a mouse tugging at a button.  

 “Shhh- Shhh! Look-!” Arthur urges quickly, and without missing a beat Lewis glances up, seeing his mom leaning against the wall by the phone, staring at the employee lunch table- With Arthur’s fabled woman seated on it. The blue hair, matched by the sweater and off-colour scarf to boot. Her gloved hands were wrapped around a steaming cup, and it was a no brainer that Mrs Pepper had offered their famous Pepper Cocoa to her. The two breathed in for silence catching in onto the conversation at last. 

 “It’s been a business of mine since my parents passed it down to me at the tender age of fourteen, and I’ve been running the business since I was 19. I assure you, I won’t be charging anything if I can’t find a cause, but I do sense a multitude of disturbances here.” The strange woman continues, her painted blue lips drawn into a genuine smile and Mrs Pepper seemed to sag a little from the assurance.   
   
 “That’s her Lewis…” Arthur whispers after a moment, and he can feel his friend nod and give an affirmative nod.  
   
 “You said she killed a thing, right?” Lewis whispers back, watching Mrs Pepper come to the table to pull out some papers, and Arthur raises a brow at it. Lewis knows those are a few of the accounts that some other employees and family wrote down on what had happened here.  

 “Yeah, but- That shit sprayed everywhere. This has to be a new outfit-“

 “You really think she’d have doubles of the same blue sweater?” Lewis asked with incredulity, but Arthur was already swatting at his hand. 

 “Doesn’t matter! She’s not covered in green brain juice like I was, okay?? That means she got changed somewhere in the city!” 

 “It… also means she’s the woman we’re hiring.” Lew adds gently, already looking bashful as he fidgets with his fingers.  

 “What??” Arthur nearly shouts, and there’s a tinkling laugh that caused them both to turn at once. She somehow moved from the table to be standing near them, and her crisp blue eyes caught them both in a piercing gaze. Mrs Pepper seems to have run off to take care of something, and so the guest wandered over to the two bickering eavesdroppers. 

   “Hello boys.” The woman greets, and despite her 5’2” something height Arthurs lungs felt pierced and his balls dropped to the floor.  

 “G-Greetings, ma’am.” Lewis jumps right away, giving Arthur the cover he needs to clear his throat and squeak out a hello in turn.  

 “My name’s Vivi, and I’m a paranormal investigator.” She continues, thrusting her hand out to be shaken and… Arthur can tell that her fingerless gloves are the kind with silver lining the knuckles for extra protection. It’s a little scary to see her in broad daylight, and without any drugs in his system to make claim that she was just another apparition. It was Lewis again who leaned in and put his left hand out to shake hers, clasping a moment before Arthur did the same… Though he’s musing more on the usage of the left hand rather than the right one. She did look asian, or something… Was she also left handed?  

 “Pleased to meet you Vivi, I’m Lewis Pepper, and this-“ 

“I’m Arthur.” The shorter man interjects quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as he realizes how snappy that could come off as. “I don’t, work here, but, I’m offering a hand.” The man supplies, and it seems that’s something Vivi wanted to hear because she’s smiling.  

 “So Lewis, your Mom has called me in to investigate this incident, though she still doubts it’s anything related to ghosts and the like.” The woman starts, cocking her hip as the phone goes off behind them, and in comes in Mrs Pepper once more, taking it off the hook in four seconds flat and takes down the new order.   “To be honest, I don’t really care what may be causing this.” Lewis begins, gesturing behind himself for a moment as he thinks his words over. She’s already dropped the smile and seems to be very receptive, listening in keenly. Arthur’s shivering from a draft that shouldn’t be there, but her emotions seem to be battering into him. Some frustration, but acceptance? “All I care about is finding the source, taking care of it, and keeping my family safe.” Lewis continues, looking back and her smile’s up again. Maybe she didn’t think Arthur was watching her as keenly as he was.  “Well, looking through my knowledge of the occult and the spiritual, I’d say it’s a demon of sorts drawn in here. Nothing too big, but, stress and trouble tends to draw them like bees to nectar.” Vivi resumes, already stepping to glance around a moment, and Arthur’s not all too happy with her. Did she not know him? recognize him from last night? He decides to press in a moment, then. 

  “What does your knowledge include? Fighting the undead?” Arthur muses with an open hand, and Vivi’s laughter is not so assuring.  

 “Only sometimes.” Is her answer, waving at them before stepping around to head back into the little employee area. “Well, I’ll need your help later boys. Nice to meet you Lewis,” She bows herself forward a moment, like a karate greeting, and then she does the same towards Arthur. “And Arthur. I hope you’ll be ready.” With that, the short, built woman wanders back over. Mrs Pepper having finished her call and strides with Vivi by her side to get started, recounting the first of many stories in broader detail for better results.

  The two men are stunned on the spot, staring at where the two had stood before slowly regarding each other. So… that was her.

  “I came in this morning prepared to tell you about the worst trip of my life.” Arthur starts first, already squeezing the back of his neck and laughing awkwardly as he leans back into the wall. “Instead, the bad trip found me.” Is his conclusion, but Lewis is already looking off towards the kitchen, where the cooks were checking on their stations and shouting out ingredients and times for their dishes. 

  “I… think she’s kind of cute.” Lewis admits, and Arthur’s dramatically giving a choked noise as he stands up. 

 “I saw her kill a guy!” He protests, flabbergasted as his friend simply laughs and starts walking back to the washing station.  

 “You saw her kill a monster that killed people. She’s a hero.” The cook argues softly, ignoring Arthur’s pained noises and distress before he’s hoping along behind the taller man like some angered chihuahua.  

 “Lewis, this isn’t funny! I swear, there’s something about her-“ 

 “Oh isn’t there? She’s beautiful and smart, and gutsy too.” Lewis preens almost dreamily, and Arthur’s left to gag. 

 “Let’s just get these dishes washed, alright?” Arthur grumbles, clearly wanting this conversation to just be over and grumbles as he sets to work to help Lewis wash dishes.  

 He just hoped this investigator Vivi didn’t do anything brash around the restaurant.


End file.
